Allures of the Sea (Open)

[Jargon Windcaller]

511 AV 21st of Winter



The wind swept across the open sea gently as the waves lapped upon the hull of the Wave-Rider. The water split as the Rider’s prow cut through waves and water with speed and precision. With Jargon at the helm the Wave-Rider went from a normal clumsy Casinor into a speed machine as she sped across the waters. It was mid-morning on the Suvan Sea and the temperature was slowly rising as the sun peaked over the horizon once again. Jargon felt the winds change, the westerly winds shifted slightly to a more northern direction. Jumping down from his perch at the back of the boat Jargon grabbed the mainsail guide rope and untied it from the fourth. Working his fingers into the tight knot until it loosened Jargon’s muscles rippled as he gave a mighty heave on the rope, changing the direction of the sale a couple of degrees and tying down the rope on the 6th notch.

Satisfied that he would get maximum propulsion through his new sail arrangement Jargon headed back up to his perch and tied down the helm to keep the boat straight and true. Loping across the ship in a couple strides Jargon put one foot on the front rail of the boat while grabbing a rope behind him and then stood perched precariously over the water in front of the boat using the rope to anchor him. Standing there over the open sea Jargon felt at home, this is where he was supposed to be. He felt the wind as it blew his hair back and swirled and curved over his body, tenderly stoking his arms like a loving mother.

Bringing up his hand to shield his eyes from the sun and reflections on the water Jargon scanned the horizon for anything unusual. Typically anything besides water was unusual, scanning 180 degrees in front of his boat he found nothing even slightly out of the ordinary. Every wave was as it should be and so the world must be in perfect order, a long standing tale of the Svefra that the sea reacts to the events around it. When something is amiss on the sea than something must be going wrong on or around it.

Fortunately that day was not today for Jargon and the sea was just as it should be. The sun slowly made its way across the sky, peaking at the top of the world and following with a slow fall which Jargon called “Dying a slow death.” As the sun started to fade back into the sea Jargon again readjusted the sail to catch a maximum amount of wind and set the tiller to face towards the west again. Jargon was set to meet back with his pod in a couple days and he didn’t want to be late.

[Jargon Windcaller]

Jargon woke to the slow tossing of his boat in the waves of the Suvan Sea. Slowly raising his stretch deep within himself Jargon then arched his back, stretching his back muscles to the limit. Swinging his legs out of the hammock they touched down on the grained wood that served as the Hull of his Casinor. Curling his toes he felt them rub against the rough wood and he felt at home.

Taking a second to rub the remaining sleep out of his eyes Jargon neglected to put on any clothes before skipping up the short steps and onto the main deck. As soon as his head cleared the hatch he felt a strong wind, he knew immediately that a storm was brewing and today would be an enjoyable day. A slight shiver also ran down his back as he realized that it was colder today then he had thought, he quickly walks back down and gets dressed for a day of fun and adventure.

Coming back to the main deck for the second time Jargon looks out over the seas for the first time today, he sees the Red orb just beginning its slow ascent to glory, coming out of the ocean like a strange form of magic. Its light reflects off of the water in every direction, his favorite part of the day. It truly was a sight to behold, and before long it is over and the sun has risen out of the sea once again.

Time passes and Jargon goes about his daily activities, checking the hull for leaks and making sure that the sails are in prime condition. Jargon goes over the entire length of rope that his vessel entails ever day, checking for fraying and weakness. Jargon, like any good sailor knows that all it tkes is one mistake to send a sailor to his watery grave.
Not long after min morning Jargon’s tasks are completed and he sits down for a nice meal of fresh greens and some salted meat he had bought stored. Jargon sat back, content in his meal and content with his lot in life, what could be better than sailing the seas unrestricted anyway? Well Jgon could think of one thing, swimming

After taking down the main sail so his boat would not go too far Jargon took a long length of rope and tied one end to the main mast and one end to his ankle. This would allow him to dive much deeper because he had something with which to pull himself back up with. Stripping himself until he could feel the wind all over his body he stepped up onto the rail of his ship and jumped with all the power he could muster. Arcing high over the water and curving his body with scary likeness of a dolphin before plunging into the water.

[Jargon Windcaller]

Plunging into the cold winter water Jargon shivered as heat was sucked from his body. As the bubbles swirled around him, running up his face and leaving a trail of more little bubbles in the water Jargon swam down, kicking his feet hard. Pulling himself deeper and deeper with his long powerful hand strokes and kicks, his ears started to flatten against the side of his head as he still yet dived deeper. Just before his lungs could not take it any longer, he stopped, turned himself in the water and grabbed the rope that tied his ankle to his ship. Giving a sharp yank he pulled himself up and he continued to pull hand over hand on the rope until he reached the surface.

Jargon gasped for air as his head broke the surface, gulping large amounts of life giving air. The thrill of diving held a special place for him and he enjoyed it so. Thinking to his self “I probably went down forty feet or so, I can go deeper than that.” Using the rope to pull himself back up onto the boat and back into the cold wind a shiver went through him, starting in his spine and running up and down the rest of his body. “Burr” he let out. Going over to the port side of the boat, he picked up a rock he had on the boat for this very reason; he typically saved these for shallow areas for diving to get things but he wanted to see how deep he could go.

Climbing up on the side of the ship once again, Jargon checked behind him to make sure that the rope was not tangled before stepping off the side and plunging once again into the sea. The rock sunk quickly and it took Jargon with him. He reasoned that he was probably sinking at twice the rate he could swim downward. Down, down in to the depths Jargon sunk, the rock propelling his motion downward. Jargon assumed that he had gone close to 70 feet by now and he was not slowing down.

This was farther than Jargon had ever dived to date, although he was not scared he recognized the danger to himself if he failed to reach the surface. Finally Jargon’s sense got the best of him, he had no clue how deep he was now but he knew that the pressure was great and his ears hurt felt as if they were on fire. Letting the rock sink into the darkness below him Jargon turned to grab the rope and began to pull him back up to the surface.

Pulling the rope hand over hand he tilted his head back, this indeed was much farther than he had ever dived, he was unsure if he would have enough air to make it back to the surface. Hand over hand Jargon continued to pull himself up. Still far from the surface he began to see bright dots in his vision, floating around doing nothing in particular. Hand over hand, “Just keep pulling.” He said to himself. His vision beginning to darken, he was now close to the surface, all he had to do is just keep pulling. Finally breaking the surface, air whooshed into his lungs as he drew as much in as he could.

[Jargon Windcaller]

Jargon slowly caught his breath while bobbing up and down in the waves of the Suvan, that was by far the deepest he had ever gone. Although he was afraid to put an estimate on it, he guessed he had dived somewhere in the 100 feet range. At that depth if only one thing went wrong then Jargon’s limited air supply would quickly run out and he would pass out, guaranteeing death.

Taking a second to look around he saw that he had come quite the distance from his ship. Slowly Jargon pulled himself through the water with long purposeful strokes. Upon reaching the side of his ship he slowly pulled himself up and onto the deck laying there for a good while just staring into the now cloudy sky. A storm was definitely brewing; Jargon did not need to be a weather watcher to figure that one out. To the east the clouds broiled and spilled over each other, each one attempting to gain as much of the sky to itself as possible. Jargon couldn’t be sure, but he thought the clouds looked just a little bit closer than they had a couple of hours ago.

The only way to make sure that his small ship would not get completely wrecked by a rouge storm is to batten down the hatches. Getting started Jargon took the time to pull the sail up to half sail, although the process sounds easy, it is time consuming and frustrating as a one person job. One his Casinor there are four main ropes that are used to raise and low the sail, each one is anchored to the side of the ship, two on the port side and two on the starboard side. Jargon untied each individual rope one at a time and hauled the section of sail the rope connected to up to half sail.

Jargon’s hands were callused from years of sailing so the pulling and tying of the many ropes on a ship did not hurt his hands. Next was the interior of the ship, although much easier physically this part of the ship was more time consuming. First Jargon went through the interior tying down everything that was to large to stow. Jargon tied down the water tank and the heater and the table, making sure to cross the ropes so that they had no shifting room. Then Jargon went through the ship again, taking anything that could fall or fly through the interior of the ship and stowing it in a chest or one of the boxes on the ship, he then tied these down also.
Once he was confident that the interior of his ship was ready to withstand a storm he returned to find that the storm was significantly closer and indeed headed in his direction.

[Emreald]

The sun was shining and looking down upon a young blond girl. She was wherein not much clothing in the heat of the day. All she had on was a tank top like shirt and a long flowing skirt that was blue and green. Blue lining, with green strips, and sea shells sown into the hem. Pictures of whales and other sea creatures could be seen if you look close enough. Her blue eyes looking upon the sea with glee and playfulness. The girls smile as her ship crossed from shore to shore. As she ran around trying to control the ship. Her handling of the ship was not the best in the world. As she looked around she saw another ship a little further away. As the girl stared at the ship for a while. She decided she wanted to go to the ship.

As she went to the prow of the ship to the wheel she turned it until the ship finally face the way she needed it to go. She ran up to the sails and fixed them to catch the wind. "Full force ahead!" She yelled to the nonexistent crew. Excitement was bursting from her. Her blond hair blowing gently in the air. Her deep blue eyes catching the light of the sun. Her tan skin was wet with sweat. As she slowly approached the other ship she saw a man as well near the ship. 'That i a little odd.' She thought to herself. 'Well not to odd.' She also thought.

(Sorry it is short)

[Jargon Windcaller]

The waves on the Suvan were starting to climb higher and higher, tossing the small Casinor around like a toy in the child’s bath tub. The wind screamed its fury and the boat rocked back and forth. “Anyone without their sea legs would be in trouble” mused Jargon as he scurried back and forth securing lines and bending the small boat to his will. The most important rule of storm sailing was to keep the bow pointed towards the oncoming waves, otherwise you could be smashed to bits or capsized, in which case sinking was guaranteed.

During Jargons scurrying across his ship, he noticed another ship approaching him at a rather slow clip. After closer inspection he realized that it was another Casinor, “if it is Svefra owned then they sure are a bad sailor!” Jargon said to himself. Running up to the tiller Jargon turned hard to head towards the stranger’s ship. The waves were growing higher by the second, but he didn’t want to leave what seemed like a bad sailor to the mercy of the Suvan.

As the distance between the two ships decreased he noticed the ship’s captain was a young girl, no older than 19. He had to admit, she was very attractive, with blond that reached down to her shoulders, her tan skin suggested she spent a lot of on the sea, or at least outside.

Once the distance had closed enough Jargon yelled across the now very rough seas, “Ahoy there! Are you going to be alright in this storm?”

Secret :

That’s ok, great first post!!

[Emreald]

The blond svefra looked around and saw the sea getting rougher. She knew she was not ready for this kind of weather and started to panic a little bit. She was running around pulling rope and trying to remember what she was supposed to do. It was a blank to her memory. The girl knew she was in a bit of trouble and sat down to think. She knew that is she sat down and thought about it she would know what to do after a while. Her blond hair whipped in the cool sea air, her skirt whipping her legs, and her top stuck close to her sweat wet skin.

As she got closer she saw only one man on the ship. He was tan and looked well toned. As if he has been on the sea all his life. Hardship showed on his body. The blond girl thought he was quite good looking and wanted to meet him. She knew there was not much she herself could do but try and stop the boat.

She heard him yell out to her. "I Think so!" She yelled back to him with a soft smile prying onto her soft pink lips. She was a bit happy to hear his voice and that he was talking to her.